The Usual Heist
by Mapograph
Summary: A day in life of Trazyn the Infinite, the self-proclaimed preserver of histories and artifacts, as he "liberates" yet another priceless item to add to his collection.


The day was, as most measured such things, quite beautiful. The double sun shone brightly on the cloudless sky, illuminating a deep valley lush with jungle vegetation. Among the trees, a plaza was cut in front of a cave mouth, from which sickly green light oozed eerily. A trio of necron warriors was moving about, towering over a group of mindshackled humans they were herding to the cave. On the verge of the plaza, an Immortal broke through the thick shrubbery and shook the stray leaves off as it finished its patrol. Its companion followed closely after it and the two bypassed the humans on their way inside the cave. After a few more moments the humans disappeared too and a massive Tomb Guard stalked to the edge of the cave, emotionlessly observing the plaza with its single eye. It froze, motionless. Save for quiet rustling of leaves in the wind, silence ruled over the valley.

Beautiful day, indeed.

High above the cave, the trees shrugged and rustled as a necron head broke through the leaves. The intruder watched the cave intently, waiting. Alas, he didn't have to wait too long. The centipedean mechanism backed off as a necron of overbearing posture, with the necrodermis shell decorated richly with gold and a cloak of hexagons covering her back, walked out of the cave quickly, flanked by two Lychguards. The royarch stopped in the middle of the plaza and planted the bottom of her staff in the dirt, clearly expecting something.

As the air in front of her shimmered with incoming teleportation, the intruder smiled in his mind. With a quiet rustle of the leaves, he lowered himself and jumped off the high tree he was perched atop, holding a coffin-shaped case in one hand. Following the path the Immortals had taken a few minutes earlier, he ran downhill, towards the plaza, hoping that his timing would be right.

* * *

The light in his mechanic eyes abated and when the lenses readjusted, necron lord going by name Mazarch found himself on the surface of world the vermin infecting it declared fit to be called Sepulchera Minor. Although he was unable to experience the climate, his sensors informed him that the temperature was high and the air impossibly damp. Seeing his royarch in front of him, Mazarch bowed deeply, not loosening his hold on the coffin-shaped case in his hand.

'My lady.'

Ethara, royarch of Sepulchera Minor, answered with a nod, allowing Mazarch to straighten himself.

'Do you have it?', she asked, her mechanical voice coloured with impatience - or perhaps that was just Mazarch's imagination. The necrontyr lord bowed again.

'Of course, my lady.'

Without another word, Ethara turned back and walked towards the cave, her two Lychguards taking up positions behind her, separating her from her servant. Mazarch didn't mind as he followed her into sparsely lit cave. The light was coming from a huge, circular portal placed at the far end of it. As the footsteps of four necrons rang on the stone, echoing in wide empty space, Mazarch grabbed his tunic with his free hand and tugged it violently.

The buzzing sound of their legs inaudible among other sounds, the tiny scarabs fell to the ground and made their way towards the Tomb Guard, which didn't pay them the slightest attention. Another few clung to Mazarch's feet as the necron walked through the portal and was instantly transported a mile underground, to dark halls of Ethara's Tomb. The place was bustling with silent activity, with warriors going their own ways, a pack of Enfleshed stalking the shadows, avoided by the rest, and a couple of crypteks working hastily on a fire-scarred monolith which didn't seem able to fix itself. The only immovable elements of the hall were two Lychguards which observed the gate, weapons drawn. As Mazarch passed them, the scarabs jumped off his feet and, all but invisible in controlled chaos of the Tomb, made their way towards them.

* * *

The intruder waited at the edge of the woods, immobile, observing the Tomb Guard. A few moments after the royarch and her entourage disappeared through the portal, he snapped his fingers and whispered:

'Ignore.'

The Tomb Guard, now turned into intruder's thrall, sent a confirmation and the necron walked out of the bush. Clasping his hands with the case behind him, he strolled casually in full view of Guard's mechanical eye, stopping only for a moment to wave to it cheerfully. Then he entered the cave and, calculating that Ethara should be gone from the portal hall by now, sent a command to the scarabs which were to attack the Lychguards. They confirmed that the watchers were all his and the intruder walked through the portal.

On the other side, he quickly hunched and mixed himself in a group of mindless warriors, careful to conceal his form from the crypteks. The scarabs stuck to Lychguards' necks sent him the information regarding the Tomb's layout and the intruder let the wave of warriors carry him all the way out of the hall and into wide, if low, corridor, whose walls were emanating with greenish light. They passed several interjections before the intruder, his head now barely above those of the warriors, noted a pair of Immortals walking towards him, looking over the passing necrons as if examining them. The intruder sighed in his head and looked for the nearest interjection. Ah, perfect.

Before the Immortals reached him, he ducked into another, narrower corridor and stood tall in an imitation of guards' position, holding the case so that it would resemble a Lychguard's sword. It seemed to have fooled the pair, as they barely paid him any attention and simply passed him by. The intruder nodded to himself and reviewed the plans of the Tomb in his head. Satisfied with what he saw, he walked further down the dark corridor without haste.

Two interjections and a group of warriors later, one of the Lychguards he had taken over sent him an alarming message. The two crypteks had finished fixing the monolith's self-repair protocols and were now reviewing the Tomb's machines. The intruder cursed in his head and picked up speed. Any moment now they could notice that the Tomb Guard was taken over, and if that happened too fast, it could… ah, complicate matters.

* * *

Mazarch walked after the royarch through long corridors, wondering idly why Ethara hadn't chosen some location closer to the portal. He too had received the news from the Lychguards and was now trying to calculate how much time he had before the crypteks figured out that something was wrong with their enormous Tomb Guard.

Finally, they entered a tall chamber with a hexagonal table occupying its centre. Still flanked by her two Lychguards, Ethara walked around it, then turned to Mazarch and put her free hand on the tabletop.

'Now, my loyal lord… Show me your find, if you may.'

'Of course, my lady.' Going by the rule that a royarch can never be pleased enough, Mazarch bowed again and only then carefully put the case on the table. As he unlocked it, the clamps gave out a click and Ethara leaned forward with impatience. Mazarch opened the lid and then turned the case so that the royarch could see its contents.

Ethara let out a mechanical sigh of joy and put her staff away, reaching into the case. She carefully wrapped her mechanical fingers around the pale figurine inside and took it out, turning it and examining from every angle. The statuette was barely the size of her hand and depicted a humanoid silhouette in long dress, seated on a stone, with long hair to her waist and tears streaming down from her eyes. The pointed ears were shaped with impossible perfection, with every little part of them nearly life-like, and the folds and creases of the dress made it seem as it the Eldar depicted was truly dressed in fabrics.

Ethara looked closely in statuette's eyes.

'And to think it is made of wraithbone…', she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else present. 'Truly, for all their shortcomings, the Eldar _are_ masterful artisans.'

She looked up and eyed Mazarch across the table.

'Congratulation on another successful trip. Have you encountered any trouble?'

Mazarch met her eyes levelly, monitoring the enthralled Lychguards' reports on the two crypteks.

'It would seem that the self-proclaimed Archaeovist of Solemnace was looking for the statue just as I was, although I had managed to leave before he set foot on the planet the figurine had been hidden on.'

'Trazyn the so-called Infinite?' Ethara's voice was full of disdain, although again, perhaps it was just Mazarch's imagination speaking. 'It does cheer me endlessly that you have managed to foil him. I shall, however, examine the statuette more closely. The "Archaeovist" does have a... bad reputation.'

'Of course, my lady.' Mazarch closed the case and put it by the open door. He did not count on it, but Ethara spending more time in here was certainly a positive development.

* * *

The intruder wrestled for a second with the sliding door before it finally opened. Looking both ways to see if no one was in sight, he slipped inside and put a couple of scarabs between the door and its frame so that it wouldn't lock while he was inside. Hearing the click and metallic screech of slightly sqeezed machines, he looked around with glee.

The chamber was long, but only the closest part was lit. Pale green light shone on a pillar tall enough to reach intruder's chest. On top of it, protected by stasis field, stood a small white figurine of an Eldar. While its sister statuette presented a female of impossible beauty, this one shown a creature crippled, chained to an anvil, its expression stricken with pain as it heaved a heavy hammer despite there being nothing it could level it on. Nevertheless, the wraithbone it was made of lent it a certain grace rarely seen these days.

The intruder leaned until his eyes were level with the figuring and smiled in his mind, opening the case and taking a small cubic object out of it. He rose his hands to both sides of the figurine, his fingers twitching with excitement. He ran the cube's lens' eye all around the statuette, then switched its projector on. Around the cube, covering it completely, a perfect holographic copy of the statue hung in the air, unwavering. The intruder examined it for faults and, satisfied, put the cube near the edge of the stasis field while his other hand touched the field's switch. After a second of preparation, he pressed the button. The field shut down and the intruder quickly snatched the figurine, replacing it with the hologram. Then, just as quickly, he turned the stasis field on and took a step back, admiring his handiwork.

Whistling, he carefully put the figurine in the case and had the scarabs open the door for him. He left the collection-to-be - or, more true to facts, collection-to-never-be - and ran down the corridor towards more occupied parts of the Tomb.

After a few dozen seconds' jog he slowed down, seeing the open door to where Ethara was examining her newest find. He strolled past it, then flattened himself theatrically against the wall and leaned to peek inside, putting the case on the ground. Ethara was still busy admiring the statue, while her two Lychguards lowered their guards. Tsk, tsk, the intruder thought. Someone's standards are slipping, now aren't they?

He picked the case from the floor and moved towards the portal hall. Halfway through, the Lychguards notified him that the crypteks had gotten down to the Tomb Guard. Ah, well. Just in time.

* * *

Ethara finished examining the statuette and looked up at Mazarch.

'Indeed, it seems to be authen-' She froze, as if listening to something. After a second, a hoarse laughter could be heard. 'Someone is a sore loser, it would seem. Come.'

Mazarch picked up the case and walked after her. The two necrontyr lords and two Lychguards quickly reached the main hall, where a tall figure was making its way amidst necron warriors and a new batch of enslaved human prisoners. Everyone moved out of Ethara's way as she called out:

'Overlord Trazyn!'

The necrontyr stopped, turning back towards the source of the voice. Ethara's two Lychguards jumped to him, holding their war scythes to his back. He didn't seem to care about that, though. He bowed deeply.

'Lady Ethara! Alas, the Long Sleep did little to diminish your beauty!'

The royarch sneered.

'The self-proclaimed Archaeovist of Solemnace, reduced to flattery? I am thoroughly unimpressed.'

She walked closer as Mazarch casually started to walk to the portal. Ethara leaned towards Trazyn.

'And now, what did it get to? A common thief…'

Trazyn threw his head back and laughed.

'Certainly you must be mistaking me for someone else! _I_ steal nothing.'

Ethara felt raising annoyance.

'Then how do you call your actions? _Liberating_ , perhaps?' She took a step back, drumming her fingers on the figurine - she left her staff back in the room. 'Whichever it is, do not think that you could get away with it in the very heart of my own domain.'

Trazyn, still unperturbed, cocked his head.

'Is that so? And here I am, confident that indeed, I have managed to, as you've put it so charmingly, "get away with it".' He leaned and poked the statuette in her hands. 'Pray tell, how did you manage to mistake a common alabaster for a _wraithbone_? And with such conviction, at that! I am impressed, although perhaps not for the most proper reason...'

Anger boiled within Ethara as she realised that she had been cheated and the Eldar figurine was worth no more than the stone it was made it. Her patience reaching its limit, she gave a silent order to her Lychguard.

With a swipe of the war scythe, the towering warrior took the head off the Overlord. It hit the ground with a clang, and the case followed after a second. The body was the last to fall. Ethara observed it with malicious satisfaction, knowing perfectly that while beheading any other Overlord by a royarch would be met with disdain, here she was quite likely to receive thanks and congratulations.

But first things first. She turned to Mazarch, furious to get answers… and didn't find him. She looked around, scanning the crown frantically.

'Is it me you are searching for, lady Ethara?'

She looked towards the portal, where her underling stood. Only it wasn't Mazarch anymore - the necrodermis was reshaping itself and reforming, until the shell was a perfect copy of Trazyn the Infinite, holding the coffin-shaped case in his hands.

' _You_.', Ethara hissed and looked at the Lychguards watching the gate. 'Stop him!'

'Do not!', Trazyn said cheerfully and the two guards didn't move a step. Ethara ran after him, while he casually walked to the portal, turned to her and bowed with a swipe of his cloak. Then he took a step back, disappearing through the portal.

When Ethara ran through it a second later, she only saw his silhouette disappearing, taken away by teleporter.

* * *

A few hours passed and Trazyn was back at his crown world of Solemnace. The Halls were quiet and still as he walked past them, carrying carefully the wraithbone statuette of Vaul and humming to himself. A few more steps and he reached the right gallery. Eying his collection of stasis-frozen Aspect Warriors, he selected one of a few pillars that stood in front of them and put the figurine on it, right next to Isha on which he based the copy he had gifted Ethara with. Looking at it, he chuckled. The only thing to do, really, had been to plant it on some abandoned planet and spread the rumours. Once he arrived, Mazarch had been childishly easy to enthral.

Having activated the stasis field, Trazyn strolled down the gallery, all the way to the Hall of Astartes. It was at least a few floors tall, and its circular wall was occupied almost entirely by Space Marine armours - with their bearers stasis-frozen inside - arranged in order of colours. The centre of the Hall was taken up by a single suit, painted grey, black and yellow. Trazyn eyed it, wincing in his mind. He turned to another suit, a giant in green.

'Care to lend a hand? Where should I put it? Should it be among shades of yellow, or perhaps somewhere among greys? But if the latter, then where exactly? Closer to black or to silver?'

The giant, of course, didn't say a word. By now, Trazyn was quite used to it. He looked at his collection, noticing the empty spaces he saved for Chapters whose armours he hadn't managed to acquire yet. One of them, though… He sighed and dispatched his servants. Against all probability, the Alpha Legionnaire managed to escape. Again. How does he do that?, Trazyn wondered idly, turning back to the giant.

'So, tell me - what should I devote myself to now? I have the entire collection of Eldar gods' figurines, so perhaps…'

He looked at his collection once again. He still missed two suits of armour from the First Founding Chapters… He turned back to the giant.

'I know! I shall acquire a Space Wolf! What would you say?'

The giant was quiet.

'I take it as a yes!', Trazyn called, running down the gallery towards his ship and rubbing his hands together with anticipation. Ah, Space Marines… Much, much, _much_ more entertaining.


End file.
